Two teens escaped giving me a chance to look around. Good news was that the door was not locked, and I was not tied to the bed or worse.
The room was gorgeous: big and light it resembled English decor, a nice combination of Victorian and Gregorian styles. I was like in a palace chamber that was turned into museum, but instead of being dead and uninhabited, the room was breathing with life. One might feel care of a person who had decorated it. The private room was divided into a sleeping area and a cozy sitting-room with a fireplace and two creamy pink armchairs, a low coffee table, various vases with field flowers (I could recognize only wild vetch and something resembling thistles). Mirrors and paintings in elaborated frames adorned the walls. I liked pictures the most; done in the style of Victorian Fairy Painting and the Pre-Raphaelites, they depicted sweet scenes. Beautiful damsels and knights, princesses and princes, lovely fairies, elves and other half naked fragile sprites covered in tender petals and leaves were smiling at me and each other.
The bedroom was right in front of the sitting-room and had a bedside table on thin legs, narrow carved doors, probably leading to the wardrobe, and a vanity with an oval mirror.
Somebody definitely touched me, for I was not wearing my clothes but a soft silky nightgown. My stuff, clean and neatly folded, was resting on the couch at the foot of the bed.
The fact somebody undressed me without permission made me cringe:
Max could have found me and bring me here...it could be he. Who else? It’s hard to imagine that I wished his embraces. And now just the thought of it makes me shiver.
I started checking myself randomly and desperately when found my chin was not burning and pretty fine by feel. I pulled my new fancy nightgown to find no scratches or bruises on my legs and knees. I came up to the dressing table mirror to witness my body to be absolutely healthy: no injuries, no paleness, no dark circles under my eyes: just look at her: milk and roses!
How long have I been sleeping? It’s impossible to heal like that in one night!
I just started panicking when heard someone’s delicate coughing. The kids returned. They seemed to be the same age, thirteen maybe younger. A girl, thin and tall, was wearing a long beige dress and a white, lacy apron; a boy, in a light tunic and soft leather pants, was lower but sturdier. They stood in the doorway close to each other like two fairywrens, looking ashamed and a little bit scared.
“Mage Avis, we are so happy to see you!” said the girl at last, bowing low.
“I knew you were alive all those years. Some people lost their hopes, but not me!” the boy blurted out passionately, sinking his eyes again.
They didn’t move, looking at their feet, and I understood why: they were afraid of me!
“We are sorry for troubling you. We just wanted to make sure with our own eyes that you are really back. It was inappropriate to greet you with a cowardly escape,” the girl stammered.
“What can we do for you?” the boy’s expression was so determined, as if he was going to fight a dragon and bring me his head as a wedding present.
“First of all, who are you?”
“Oh, Mage Zarya (Aha! So you say, marigold and blondie. Now I have to find out if they are in on my kidnapping together with mad Max) warned me about the dark oblivion spells and your recovery. I beg your pardon, Mage Avis! My name is Selina,” said the girl, bubbling with energy and jobbing her elbow into the boy’s side.
“I am Robin.” he uttered, somehow, timidly.
“And I’m Batman,” I just couldn’t help myself.
“No, you are not,” reacted the boy, smiling shyly and indecisively. “Only late Jo could shift into a bat, but she was a woman...”
“Shut your mouth!” Selina hissed at him. The boy looked miserable.
Well, they didn’t understand the reference. Poor me, what a crazy place and no Batman to save us.
“Never mind,” I sighed. “By the way, do you know anybody by the name of Max or Maxim here?” I tried to sound indifferent.
Kids shook their heads no with varying intensity:
“Is he from Hare Rivulets, Mage Avis?”
“Probably,” I shrugged my shoulders, having no idea about any hares.
“I don’t know any mages called Max here,” the boy ruffled his hair. “Maybe a seasonal mage in Herbarium or a new farmhand in the village?” Robin was looking at his friend puzzled.
He could be anyone here and under any name!
“He’s my age, same height, short light brown hair, grey eyes,” I stopped abruptly, trying not to cry and show my weakness in front of the children who were hanging on my words.
“I’ll call the guards to find this man, Mage Avis!” Selina was about to leave the room.
“No guards!” I reacted nervously. “No guards, please. There is no rush.”
He is probably dead, and I probably killed him.
Playing along to sort everything out, I didn’t correct them when they called me “Mage Avis” or treated me like I was a noble damsel. It might be dangerous here; I could still be kidnapped thus I was highly paranoid: what if they throw me in the dungeon or burn me on a stack knowing I was just an imposter and their dear Avis is somewhere else? No guards, thank you gratefully!
“You must be hungry!” the girl flung up her hands like she was an old nanny. “Go to the kitchen and bring breakfast for Mage Avis. Hurry up!” she commanded Robin.
“I’m not your servant. Go and bring it yourself,” he started arguing her words but quickly broke off, remembering my presence, and rushed away to the hall.
A sneaky rat was lolling on one of the chair cushions pretending to be asleep but with its beady eyes open.
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